


Crazy In Love

by Swanny_Writer



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationship (sort of), Fluff, I'm not entirely sure what this is, Idol-Verse, M/M, but after the recent events in the WonHui ship, gyuhao mentioned, i needed to write about it, my thirst just got out of control, soft!jun, teasing!wonwoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 19:05:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11042385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swanny_Writer/pseuds/Swanny_Writer
Summary: With SVT’s new comeback, Wonwoo finds himself staking his claim on a certain member of the performance team.(Or the one where Wonwoo tries to unbutton Jun’s shirts)





	Crazy In Love

After months of preparations, SEVENTEEN is ready for yet another comeback. It’s nostalgic and quite fitting that the date would coincide with the week of their debut anniversary, especially since they are about to unveil a new and different side of them. Rather than the fresh, happy, and lighthearted sound that most people have grown to associate with their band, this time they would be showing a more mature and emotionally-filled theme throughout the album. As much work and effort as they all put in to perfect every track, there is still the lingering disquietude and worry that the audience might not respond well to it. 

While no one spoke it aloud for fear that it might demoralize everyone else, they all thought about it:  _what if people hate the new sound? What if they only want to see the cheerful and youthful SVT?_

Consequently, they’re all on edge throughout the process.

Preparing for a comeback is always stressful and difficult, regardless of the theme. It’s a lot of work, both in the writing room and the recording studio. It’s long hours of meetings, and even longer days of practice. 

For  _Al1_ particularly, it seems like they spent every waking hour dedicated to the tracks in one aspect or another. From the moment they opened their eyes to the very last second before their head hits the pillow. Every ounce of energy went into the preparations. They had to be perfect: the music, the lyrics, the choreography, the execution. It’s grueling work, but it’s what they all love, and so they push through the exhaustion and sleep-deprivation. Even if the fans don’t respond as well as they hope, at the very least, they’ll be proud of what they’ve accomplished. 

Needless to say, by the time it all came together, and they received the excited comments from the audience, Wonwoo felt like the weight of the world has slipped off of his shoulders. Now he can actually think about stuff other than the album. Like the fact that he’s missing a particular member on the Performance Team. 

Although they technically all live under the same roof and see each other on the regular, it didn’t exactly mean that they spent a lot of time together as just Wonwoo and Junhui instead of Seventeen’s Wonwoo and Seventeen’s Jun. It’s the same story during each album and comeback production: if they weren’t sleeping, they were working. Sometimes locked in separate rooms by units to perfect lyrics and/or dance routines. There were days where they wouldn’t cross paths until they crashed for the night, barely making out each other’s presence before sleep claimed their consciousness. Over time, Wonwoo’s grown used to the little and limited contact throughout this crucial time, but at least with the previous albums, they shared the same mixed unit. 

They were able to sneak in lingering touches for  _Still Lonely_ , and they sat in for each other’s recording sessions for  _I Don’t Know_. So even though they poured all of their energy into the performances, at least they were within arm’s reach.

With  _Al1_ , they have zero opportunities. Wonwoo shares his rap verses with Mingyu, and his point choreographies don’t overlap with the dancer even once. To drive the wedge even further, this time around, Junhui has a duet with Minghao, making him even more unavailable than he already was. Wonwoo loves that the label is finally allowing the two of them to show and present their singing, but he can’t exactly be enthusiastic about the lineup that results from it.

He’s with Mingyu. Junhui’s with Minghao.

The notorious love square that the fans enjoy discussing so much. 

Except that right now, the pairings are off. 

While he loves Mingyu, and he’s positive the dancer adores Minghao, the situation is less than ideal. Especially when he feels like it’s been months since he and the brunet were allowed to spend more than five minutes alone together. 

So when the group decided to a V-Live countdown for the drop of their music video for  _Don’t Wanna Cry,_ Wonwoo immediately jumped at the chance to be with his  favorite  dorky dancer. The latter had been more than a little surprised when Wonwoo gripped his wrist and pulled him down to the seat next to him before they went on air. Wonwoo had feigned ignorance when Junhui stared at him with an arch brow, quickly glancing behind them at the spot that he usually occupies: very left corner, next to Seokmin, behind Hansol. Perhaps the rapper should have felt a tinge of guilt for stealing Hansol’s usual seat, even more so when the kid was still nursing his injury. 

But when he senses the warmth from the dancer’s thigh press up against his as he made room for Seungkwan, Wonwoo can’t feel bothered to express any other emotion besides elation. Hansol, to his credit, had merely thrown his fellow hip hop unit member a knowing smirk and patted his shoulder, as if to say, “I got you, bro!” 

Very quickly, the rest of the group filed in, taking their familiar spots in the rows, for the most part. Wonwoo hoped that with the few discrepancies, he and Junhui wouldn’t be called out on it. Luckily, they don’t; however, the two of them did receive a few quirked brows. The group thankfully left them alone as the broadcast began, though. 

It’s been a while since they last talked to Carats, so Wonwoo was happy as he listened to Seungkwan and Jeonghan introduce the album; he laughed when the others made jokes, and he cracked wry smirks when he heard Jihoon deliver his rehearsed speech about the meaning of the title song. But what made him  _really_ happy was how easily he could touch the boy next to him. A simple swish of the foot, and he was able to hook their ankles together. A discreet slide of the arm, and he could squeeze the other’s hand behind the propped up albums displayed on the table. 

Wonwoo’s mood was so great, he forgot himself at one point, humming along with his neighbor and just generally being their silly selves. It took Seungkwan's ~~oblivious~~   discreet throat clearing to get them to stop, hiding matching sheepish smiles.

“Oh, and this time, there’s a special unit—no, not a unit,” Dino corrected himself, “But a duet! With Jun and The8!”

Wonwoo never considered himself the jealous type, but there’s no other ugly emotion he could think of to label the current burning sensation in his chest, slithering its way around his heart. Even though logically he knows there’s nothing to be worried about, he can’t seem to make it go away. While everyone is busy listening to the duet discussing the writing process, Wonwoo squeezes Junhui’s knee under the table, just to ease his mind that the dancer was right there next to him. Junhui gives him a quick look, but he pretends not to see it as the group moves on to the next topic.

The rest of the promotion will be a living nightmare if he doesn’t figure something out. It’s unavoidable that the topic will arise again, and he can’t turn into a sulking child every time it happens. He might have mastered the art of the poker face, but he’s still human.

 

________________________________

 

Today is the day of the showcases, the first official presentations of their songs. First, it’s the one for the press. The thrill that’s a mixture of nerves and excitement course through Wonwoo's body as he jumps up and down a few times to loosen his muscles. As usual, the dressing room is loud and noisy, thanks to thirteen boys all trying to get themselves rid of the nerves by being more idiotic than usual. Most of them have already gone through hair and makeup, and they should just be hanging out now, waiting to go on. Yet one particular boy is still fiddling with his shirt. 

Wonwoo snorts to himself as he leaves his spot on the couch and heads for the opposite corner where Junhui is attempting to hide. He passes by Jihoon doing some weird chanting and mediation he’s learned online, and steps around Soonyoung’s and Seokmin’s grand warmup routine. He barely manages not to get his eye poked out.

When he approaches and manages to look closer at Junhui, he realizes that the latter isn’t just fidgeting with his shirt from nervousness as he usually does. He’s actually struggling to done up his buttons. For the show, they’ve been given a black and white look, with rather interesting shirts. Wonwoo almost misses the  _Boom Boom_ outfits. They were flashy, but comfortable. He’s not quite sure what to make of the wardrobe for this comeback yet. He glimpses briefly at his reflection in the row of mirrors and shakes his head at the armor-like vest over the flow-y white top. 

Junhui’s shirt, on the other hand, is nice. It looks like a regular button-up white shirt, except that it has two rows of buttons running diagonally across his body, giving off an asymmetrical look. One row runs from his right shoulder down to the bottom of his ribs, and the other stretches from the middle of the hem to the junction of his left sleeve. Currently, he’s trying to insert a round stud through its matching hole on the shoulder row. 

“This shirt has too many buttons to done up,” Junhui complains, glancing up briefly as he notices Wonwoo appearing before him.

“Ah,” the rapper replies with sarcasm. “And here I thought you were just slow.”

Junhui throws him an unamused look, then resumes his task. “You’re the supposed sloth, remember?”

The comment prompts Wonwoo to laugh, and Junhui smiles at the sight. “I have my moments of speed, too,” he argues half-heartedly.

“Of course,” the older concedes, “When you steal food from me. Then you turn into a cat.”

“Funny how the pot calls the kettle black. Weren’t you the one who said he’d want to be a cat?” he arches a brow. “But anyway, it’s not stealing if it’s given willingly.”

At that, Junhui rolls his eyes, but he’s unable to refute the truth of the fact that he lets Wonwoo basically eat everything he cooks, even if it means swiping it right out of his bowl.

After a few seconds of watching him getting dressed, Wonwoo feels a little mischievous. He peeks at the second row of buttons, tugging at the material as he asks, “Are these real or just for decorations?”

The dancer barely spares a glance, too busy raising his arm every which way to try to reach a particular stubborn clasp. “I don’t know,” he answers, distracted. “They were already done when I put on the shirt. So probably just for decoration.”

“Hm,” the rapper hums, inspecting it with more scrutiny.

Sneakily, he reaches up to the first button lined precariously by Junhui’s belt buckle. Another peek shows the owner still distracted, so he swiftly flicks his fingers, undoing it. The shirt splits open about an inch. As Junhui, still unaware, moves his arms again, the hem lifts upward, revealing a triangle of golden skin. Wonwoo waits a few seconds to see if the brunet notices. Since he doesn’t, Wonwoo targets the next button. And the next. Undoing the buttons one at a time, alternating his attention from the stretch of muscles to the preoccupied face of the dancer. 

By the time the last button goes through the hole, most of Junhui’s abdomen is on display. Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing as he admires his work with pride. 

“Do you feel a draft?” Junhui asks, at last finishing the task. When he notes Wonwoo’s smirk, he glances down at himself. “Wonwoo!” With haste, he grabs the hanging flaps and closes them, shooting an accusing look at the rapper.

“What?” the latter feigns innocence. “It’s nothing I’ve never seen. Besides, I just wanted to check if the buttons were functional or not.”

Junhui lets out an incredulous laugh, attempting once again to get himself properly dressed. “There was no need to test all of them.”

A shrug, followed by a teasing smirk. “Just to make sure they were all functional. I’m nothing if not thorough.”

The dancer laughs at that, the sound light and pleasing to Wonwoo’s ears. He grins in response.

Not able to bear watching Junhui struggle so much, he decides to help. It’s a noble thought. It’s no way an excuse to touch and tease him. Nope, not at all.

He bats the long and tan fingers out of the way as he takes over, meticulously slipping the stud through the clasps he’s just spent time undoing. Junhui stands still, lifting his arm out of the way for the younger to reach the top. But with his guard down, he doesn’t see the impish glint reflecting in Wonwoo’s eyes right before he pounces and tickles him.

The victim lets out of a yelp, which soon morphs into a fit of giggles. The two fight themselves off, attempting to attack the other with tickles. Very soon, the whole room turns toward the far corner to watch the laughing dorks wrestling, fingers progressively getting bolder as they seek the warm skin underneath the fabrics.

The two members are so off in their own world, they don’t see the various reactions from their bandmates. Jihoon rolls his eyes and turns back to his meditation without any hint of surprise, already used to it from having to share a room with them. Soonyoung raises both brows, eyeing the rest of the Gag Trio. Seungkwan disapproves of that much PDA and judges silently, while Seokmin grins awkwardly. The vocalist is glad that his members are happy, but it’s also embarrassing. Minghao openly shows his disgust, and Mingyu gapes. The dancer ends up having to block his eyes with a magazine laying around.

It takes Seungcheol a few seconds to regain his composure, before he marches over to separate the two. Their cheeks are flushed, and their breathing is ragged as they look at him, then at the room beyond his shoulders. In realization, Junhui turns bright red, shifting his body away and scratching at his ear. Wonwoo gives a guilty smile, rubbing at his neck, and apologizes for the disturbance.

Seungcheol shakes his head with a sigh and orders them to stop flirting.

Behind their leader’s back, the two share a sheepish grin.

 

________________________________

 

As it turns out, Wonwoo might have finally discovered a way to ease his discomfort when it comes to the current grouping in their love square. Granted, at first, it was merely a coincidence. He had given out an honest answer, not really thinking about the implication. But afterward, when social media exploded with fans' reactions to it, he figured it’s a job well done. And so he kept at it, giving the fans what they wanted to see and hear, and at the same time, claiming his stake on Junhui in a subtle way. It’s fine to let the fans think it; it’s another matter to blatantly confirm it.

It starts out with a fun conversation about his Chinese skills, which turns into food. In response to the fan volunteering to bring him ingredients to share and cook at the dorms, he remarks: “Ah, yes, yes. Jun is very good at making food. His cooking is delicious.”

When a fan praises him for being funny on  _One Fine Day Japan_ , he answers, “Ah, me? Thank you, but I found Jun the funniest.”

Wonwoo finds that saying it out loud eases the strange tightness in his chest. Drawing attention to their close relationship brings him comfort, so he finds himself pushing it a step further.

In between recordings, Wonwoo would stick around Junhui. During a particular show, while the dancer is rehearsing the moves by himself on the side, Wonwoo sneaks up and grabs the arm he’s just lifted in the air, waving it around. Laughing, Junhui goes along with it, holding his hands and swinging their linked arms to and fro. Their feet find their own rhythm, despite the lack of audible music. Before they knew it, the two of them are dancing to some nonsensical choreography, laughter echoing around them and attracting the attention of their friends. Jihoon and Seungcheol end up chuckling at the silly pair, shaking their heads at the antics. Not that the couple notices as absorbed as they are in their own world.

“You’re such a weirdo,” Junhui comments, cheeks pink from the fit of giggles. “Very much worthy of that award.”

Wonwoo snorts, but his grin makes it difficult to believe he’s serious. “Coming from the guy who was awarded the title of Most Random, that’s not saying much.”

Scrunching up his nose, Junhui sticks his tongue out in defiance, but that only makes Wonwoo laugh harder. 

Of course, their little exchange doesn’t go unnoticed by the fans present for the recording. In mere hours, the news had spread of how adorable and silly Seventeen’s Wonwoo and Jun are with each other, which pleases Wonwoo very much. His plan is working, and he feels better even when he is placed across the room from the dancer at the following events.

Unbeknownst to him, however, Junhui has also been asked direct questions about their relationship, but unlike himself, Junhui’s answers have been more cautious. As such as when a fan asked him to pick a member he’d like to go out with if he were a girl. Although Junhui voiced his preference for the rapper, on paper he wrote,  _Can I buy one get eleven free?_ Turning it into a joke.

Then when someone confronted him about Wonwoo’s cooking comment, he denied actively cooking for the younger, claiming Wonwoo merely comes by for a taste on the rare days he does make something for himself.

That manner with which he responds to the inquiries irks Wonwoo for some reason, and so he decides to talk to him about it one night while the dancer prepares some vegetables for a stir fry.

Wonwoo finds Junhui in the kitchen late at night after their long day of recording and fan meetings. The older has his back to the doorway, hands moving steadily as he slices carrots into a container. They have fatigue to thank for the unusual silence around the dorms; the rest of the members are probably passed out in bed or the floor somewhere. And so with no one to catch them, he glides into the kitchen and comes to stand behind Junhui.

With natural ease, he wraps his arms around the other’s waist and props his chin on his shoulder. The action startles the older for a second, but when he sees that it’s Wonwoo, he throws him a smile.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I can you ask you the same question,” Wonwoo mumbles, speech impaired at his chin stubbornly refusing to lift off of the comfortable shoulder. “Do I get to eat, too?”

Junhui laughs and pokes his side, moving to the cabinet to pull out two plates and set them on the counter. “That’s a silly question.”

The rapper shrugs, hugging him closer as he tries to extract himself to get the pan over to the stove. “Just checking.”

Soon, the aroma of fried onions and garlic drifts into the air, accompanied by the sizzling sounds of vegetables and chicken being mixed in the hot oil. The metal chopsticks clang against the side of the pan as Junhui expertly stirs the ingredients with one hand, while the other flips the pan. Checking on his work, Junhui picks up a piece of celery and blows on it, then passes it over his shoulder to Wonwoo’s awaiting mouth.

He crunches on it, tasting the distinct flavor of the spices, and he grins. “Good.”

Smiling proudly, Junhui nods, splitting the contents into two servings. As Wonwoo watches him work, he thinks again of the fan’s questions. Thanks to their  _One Fine Day_ broadcasts, the audience has been able to see Mingyu’s skills, but none of them knew about Junhui’s. That’s partly the reason why Wonwoo had wanted to show it off, both at the fanmeets and during their filming of the show in Japan. It wasn’t entirely favoritism that prompted Wonwoo to task Junhui with the cooking duties. He’s proud of Junhui, and he wants everyone else to know it. As a result, he can’t really understand Junhui’s reluctance and subtle denial when the fans confronted him about their relationship.

“I wanna ask you something,” he ventures when Junhui hands him a pair of chopsticks. They’re still standing by the counter, steaming plates sitting between them.

Junhui lifts his gaze, head titled to the side, large eyes sincere and expectant. “Sure.”

Wonwoo rasps his knuckle on the surface, finding the right words to put his thoughts into coherence. “Remember when that fan asked if you cooked for the whole band or if you only do for me?” he starts, elaborating once Junhui nods hesitantly, “Why did you make it sound so impersonal? It almost seemed like you wanted to deny it or something.”

Chewing on his bottom lip, Junhui averts his gaze and shifts his weight to the other foot. “I didn’t mean it like that…” he says slowly. “It just sort of… came out that way.”

An ugly thought occurs to Wonwoo, and he clenches his hand into a fist under the counter. “Do you not want people to associate us together?”

Doe eyes widen. “No! Not at all!” The quick response reassures Wonwoo, and the rapper lets out a sigh. “It’s just…” Junhui pauses and peers at Wonwoo’s face, leaning his elbows on the counter to  _really_ look at him. His gaze is searching, roaming over the planes of Wonwoo’s sharp features, eyes locking on the other’s. Wonwoo’s heart squeezes as his insides tangle together. Junhui swallows, then takes in a steady breath.

“How do you feel about me, Wonwoo?” His voice is barely above a whisper, and Wonwoo almost misses the trembles surrounding the question.

But the rapper’s mind draws a blank. He blinks. “Huh?”

Junhui has never looked this serious before. Wonwoo doesn’t know how to react. He’s used to the friendly and cheerful Junhui, the silly and loving boy.

The dancer doesn’t relent. His gaze is sharp and unwavering as he repeats the question. “How do you feel about me? What are we, bandmates? Friends? Is that it?” 

Wonwoo opens his mouth, then closes it again. His mind is spinning. No words come to him aside from short syllables. “I… Uh… Um…”

The brunet breaks eye contact, now focusing on the smooth surface of the counter, drawing out invisible patterns. Wonwoo’s known him long enough to recognize the nervous energy needing an outlet. 

“I know we’re close,” Junhui says quietly, “Certainly a lot closer to each other than with anyone else in the group. I know how I feel about you, but how can I not have concerns when you can’t even tell me how you feel about me?” He takes a breath to find his next words, while Wonwoo still attempts to take control of the situation and his own breathing.

“Everyone already sees me as the silly boy of the group,” Junhui continues, “I don’t want to become a fool on top of that by claiming things I don’t know for sure.” Punctuating his sentence, he glimpses up to meet Wonwoo’s stunned expression.  _Is he saying what I think he is?_

There’s not much room for misunderstanding.

“Junhui, I—”

“Whoa! This smells amazing!”

The boys whip around to see Hansol entering the kitchen, lopsided grin and sparkling eyes directed toward the plates of food. Wonwoo’s almost forgotten about the late night dinner and the rest of the band in the house.

The blond slides in between his older members, eyes strained on the stir fried plates; he looks on the verge of drooling. It’s not until he’s met with the loaded silence that he glances up at the boys on either side of him.

“Oh, sorry,” his face falls. “Did I interrupt you guys?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Hansol quirks a brow, subconsciously taking a step back from the scowling older rapper. He’s only calmed down by Junhui’s gentle hand on his shoulder. When he looks back, Junhui is smiling gently, lifting his hand to ruffle the golden locks affectionately. Wonwoo seethes silently on the other side of the counter.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” the dancer asks. “Here.” He offers the unused chopsticks and pushes the plate closer to the growing boy.

The latter watches with confusion. “Didn’t you make this for you and Wonwoo?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Junhui shakes his head with a tiny smile. “I’m not all that hungry anymore.” Patting his head, he adds, “Don’t stay up too late.” Before leaving, he throws Wonwoo a quick glance.

Completely oblivious, Hansol pulls out a chair and starts eating the pipping hot food, while Wonwoo tries not to make his glare too obvious. He’s always known of Junhui's slight favoritism, but it’s still  _annoying_ to see it. Planting his cheek on a fist, he heaves a sigh. 

A couple minutes in, another hip hop unit member makes his way into the room to get a water bottle from the fridge. Mingyu stops to uncap the bottle and take a few sips as he eyes his company. “Who cooked?” he asks, joining them at the counter.

“Jun!,” Hansol replies excitedly. “It’s really good!”

Mingyu laughs, grabbing a napkin from the weaved basket to wipe the younger’s oily lips. Then he turns to the brooding male. “Why aren’t you eating? You’re usually so enthusiastic about his cooking. Even boasted about it to the fans.”

The comment does nothing to lift his mood. He pushes the plate over to Mingyu. “I’m not that hungry. You can have it.”

“Really?” Not needing further invitation, the giant puppy pulls out a chair next to Hansol and digs in enthusiastically. Only to complain about the spices a few bites in, not that he’s showing any sign of slowing down.

“Did you guys have a fight?” he asks around a mouthful.

“No,” Wonwoo lies, face as blank as paper. 

“Yeah, you did,” Hansol retorts, then proceeds to gossip about what he saw when he came in. Wonwoo wants to hit both of them.

“So… what happened?” Mingyu tries again. “You’ve been more clingy lately,” he notes, “Don’t tell me Jun actually feels bothered.” The possibility is so absurd, the two of them burst into laughter right after the comment is uttered.

“Shut up.”

Instead of listening, the two younger start to poke and prod at Wonwoo’s arms, trying to make him spill the issue. He bats at their hands, but it’s hard to fight off two hyperactive kids.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Seungcheol calms them down as he crosses the kitchen.  _What is this? A hip hop unit meeting?_ “It’s too late at night to be fighting.” He clasps his hands on Wonwoo’s and Hansol’s shoulders. “So what’s going on?”

Wonwoo rubs his face tiredly. He should have just escaped to his room. No, wait, he can’t. He’s sharing it with Junhui. As he recalls that fact, he lets out a groan. Maybe talking it out and hearing others’ opinions might help. At the very least, he’ll be able to stall long enough that Junhui would be asleep by the time he went to bed.

So with reluctance, he spills everything.

At the end, he waits with bated breath for their conclusion. Mingyu speaks up first. 

“I think Junhui is right to be cautious. He’s afraid.” He shrugs. “I mean, he’s pretty transparent. It’s clear from his end how much he cares for you, but you’ve always been kind of… aloof?”

Wonwoo is not amused. He blinks slowly. “You and Minghao are always yelling at us to leave the room.”

“Duh! Because no one wants to see you flirting constantly, but that’s not the point!”

“I think what he’s trying to say is,” Seungcheol cuts in, adopting the role of the group’s father. “Sometimes, you need to say it to make it real. For all Junnie knows, you’re just being nice.” When Wonwoo raises a skeptical brow, Seungcheol goes on, “We all reciprocate his skinship to some level, some more than others.” The three of them direct their gazes at Hansol, who’s just finished stuffing his face.

Wide eyes dart between his elders. “What?”

“Just tell him how you feel instead of assuming he knows,” Mingyu concludes. 

“His obliviousness is nothing new, and he lacks self-confidence despite his shameless flirtatious persona,” Seungcheol adds on. “The kid is shy and unassuming. You need to say it to his face.”

Wonwoo’s known the solution would be something to that effect. Which doesn’t work out in his favor, because he can’t bring his brain to come up with a good way to do it. Frustrated, he runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how,” he admits.

“You’re both hopeless,” Mingyu sighs. Wonwoo glares at him. The puppy has definitely been spending too much time with Minghao. The snark is starting to rub off on him.

The self-elected father of twelve suggests, “You write lyrics, don’t you? Surely you can figure out how to confess to someone you genuinely like rather than to any imaginary girl.”

“Wait,” Hansol interrupts, “I thought all of our songs were about Carats.”

The three of them roll their eyes. “They are.”

“Just use your skills,” Seungcheol says lastly. 

 

Easier said that done, Wonwoo thinks that night as he lays under his covers. Normally, he can drop into unconsciousness the moment his brain deems the day’s work is over. But now he lays wide awake, staring at the dark room, following the slants of light coming in from the street lamps. His mind can’t shut down. It’s too busy thinking up of ways to put his feelings into words. Why was this so hard?

With a huff, he tosses to his side. He can dimly make out Junhui’s silhouette in the bunk across from him. His chest is rising and falling steadily, and Wonwoo finds himself smiling despite the frustration. At least one of us is able to sleep, he thinks. His fingers grip the covers as he reigns back his habit. Normally, when he’s this concerned and agitated, he’d simply pad over to the other bunk and slip in to find comfort in the other’s warmth. 

Junhui would groggily scoot over to make room for him, then pull him closer to let him nuzzle into the crook of the older’s shoulder. He’d feel the gentle caress of fingers in his hair and soothing heartbeats by his ear. Sometimes, Junhui would ask if he’s all right, voice deep and heavy with slumber. Sometimes, they’d sacrifice precious hours to talk it out. Other times, he’d just shake his head and hold onto the older tighter. Junhui wouldn’t probe; he’d just be there to support and assuage the stress. Sleep usually came easily after that, and Wonwoo would flatten his hand over the other’s chest, lacing their fingers together.

With a sigh, he flips to his back again.

Writing lyrics was easy compared to this. Imaginary love versus real feelings. 

As that train of thought crosses his mind, a couple lines from one of their new tracks follow along. Ironically, it’s his part and Junhui’s.

_The common story we’ve heard at least once when we were young/That you can you go crazy in love_

_Even though we’re separated, I believe in us/Thinking about us_

 

With a dry laugh, he settles deeper into the covers, perhaps at least having an inkling on how to go about his dilemma. 

 

________________________________

 

The next day, the thirteen of them find themselves in yet another dressing room about to shoot another broadcast. Junhui has seemed to be avoiding him all morning, but Wonwoo didn’t miss the stolen glances when the dancer thought he wasn’t looking. Moreover, Wonwoo didn’t buy Soonyoung’s sudden act of benevolence when the unit leader handed him a candy bar and told him he looked tired. It’s Junhui’s favorite brand, which he usually hides from the sticky fingers of their bandmates. For someone who’s been trained since childhood in the arts of acting, Junhui was seriously too honest for his own good.

But still, that small slip up gives Wonwoo courage to see his plan through.

After the makeup artists and hair stylists finish with him, he slides off of the chair and scans the room. He skips over Mingyu and Minghao huddled by the side discussing what sounds like BongBong’s next upgrade; he ignores Jeonghan asking Jisoo to fan him with a magazine as the lazy bum reclines on the couch with his eyes closed; Seokmin's and Seungkwan’s curious gazes go unanswered, and he only pats Chan’s head once when he sidesteps him to get across the room.

Junhui is sharing a couch with Jihoon. The musician is playing some game on his phone, and for some reason, he has one leg draped over Junhui’s lap. The latter squishes his cheek as close to Jihoon’s shoulder as he possibly can in order to watch the screen, an excited grin dancing on his lips. His finger hovers, pointing and gesturing wildly as he comments in rapid, short commands at what Jihoon should do. The shorter of the two smirks, hardly sparing a response as he continues to play, the need to win flashing across his face. 

When Jihoon scores, Junhui cheers, legs jumping enthusiastically, jostling the smaller of the two. The grumpy musician groans, but doesn’t push him away. He only shifts his leg a little, and Wonwoo understands it’s to pin Junhui down and keep him sitting still. Quite a difficult task, really.  

Wonwoo’s approaching shadow catches the pair’s attention. While Junhui swallows and averts his gaze, Jihoon lifts a brow as he observes the bumbling idiots. It’s not that he doesn’t love his fellow 96-liners; he’s quite fond of them, honestly. He just thinks they’re hopeless dumbasses for creating a mountain out of an anthill. Without saying a word, he merely throws Wonwoo a look and gets up. Jihoon has higher hope concerning the rapper to put the matter to rest. Leave it to Junnie, and they’ll never progress beyond this awkward shit. 

Ignoring Jihoon’s silent judging gaze, Wonwoo takes over his seat. Junhui seems a little hesitant when he feels the younger’s arm rubbing against his, but he stays still. Considering that as a good sign, Wonwoo scoots even closer to drop his head on the strong shoulder. A beat. No rejection comes from his companion, which he half-expects. Timidly, he raises the hand resting between them and traces the back of Junhui’s with his fingertip. He’s managed to write out their names twice before the dancer seems to notice that it’s not just nonsense patterns. 

As if afraid of dislodging the gentle contact, Junhui slowly flips his palm up to lace the pale fingers with his. Wonwoo feels his chest mimicking the squeeze that the older exerts on their joined hands. His heart beats erratically, skipping beats, but he’s grinning into Junhui’s shirt. Using their connected hands, he messes with the second row of buttons again.

“Hey,” Junhui protests meekly. When Wonwoo glimpses up, he spies a playful smirk. He hisses, “Stop trying to take off my clothes.”

Wonwoo chuckles softly, gradually relaxing now that their usual dynamic is slowly returning. Keeping eye contact, he whispers, “I’m not always good with my words, but I’m a singer, so I figured I might as well use it.”

Raising himself a few inches, he leans over to brush his lips by the shell of Junhui’s ear. He feels the other shudder, and his smile widens as he starts to serenade him with the lyrics to  _Crazy in Love_. It confuses Junhui for a second, even though he doesn’t move away, too distracted by Wonwoo’s low timber and the warm breath blowing across his skin. As Wonwoo gets to Junhui’s part, the brunet timidly joins in. Wonwoo can’t quite catch the higher notes; however, Junhui just rubs at his knee soothingly as he takes over, smiling crookedly at the rapper. The two of them quietly sing through the entire song in tiny voices, sharing shy, but happy expressions. 

“Does that answer your question?” Wonwoo wonders around a smirk to distract from his blushing cheeks.

He’s had to perform the song so many times: in the recording studio, to the producers, in front of the press, in front of Carats. Every time, exhilaration and delight had filled his limbs. Only a touch of nerves pricked his skin during the short time it takes them to get into position on stage and wait for the music to start. Yet to have Junhui as his only audience has filled him with so much butterflies that he feared they might erupt out of his throat the moment he hit the first note. He’s a bundle of nerves as he awaits the response.

Junhui giggles, and the rapper snuggles closer to the lovely sound. “I like you, too,” he says, kissing Wonwoo’s forehead. 

The latter grins, feeling all the tension leave his body as joy and bliss flow into his tissues. He reaches up to brush his lips on a spot below the square jaw. The brunet pulls him closer with a hand placed on the small of his back, and they settle into their piece of tranquility, tuning out the ruckus from the rest of the band.

“Thanks for the chocolate, by the way,” Wonwoo says after a few minutes of serene silence.

Junhui lets out a breathy laugh. “Did Soonyoung tell you?”

“No, you’re just not very subtle,” the other retorts teasingly, causing the dancer to roll his eyes and laugh again. 

“As if you’re any better.”

“Oh, but I am,” he claims slyly.

At Junhui’s curious look, he wags his brows suggestively. Then his hand slips through the gap of the open shirt. He runs his fingertips in one swift arc from Junhui’s navel, across the firm abs, and all the way up his back. The surprise attack elicits a sharp gasp from the caught off guard victim. 

With round eyes, he stares down at Wonwoo’s handiwork, full lips falling apart. “How did you— _When_ did you even…?” Half-posed questions hang in the air as he scrambles to wrestle the flaps from Wonwoo’s grip. 

“Like I said,” the smug rapper replies, “I know subtlety.” Granted, it was a lot easier with their sides basically flushed against each other’s. It didn’t require much; he just had to raise his wrist and twist the buttons and slip them through the holes, steadily ascending to the top, made all the more available by Junhui’s own decision to wrap his arm over Wonwoo’s shoulder. 

The dancer gives him a wry smile. “And the only way to prove your point was to undo my buttons?”

Laughing, he nestles against his shoulder once more, hand lazily drawing circles on the hot skin. “Yep. Besides, why have functional buttons if they’re not meant to be undone?”

“I highly doubt that’s what the wardrobe department was thinking about when they designed it,” he says gently with a chuckle. Removing his arm from Wonwoo’s shoulder, he attempts yet again to deal with Wonwoo’s prank. 

“Regardless of intent, I’m gonna volunteer to check every time they hand us new outfits,” the other answers, not easing his teasing touches, but at least not disturbing the older’s work. Feeling mischievous, he raises his head to meet the other’s gaze. “Moreover, how do you know you’re wearing it properly?”

Junhui’s brows pull together. “What do you mean?”

“What if you’re actually supposed to leave them undone?”

He’s met with an eye roll as Junhui finishes the last button. “Unlikely,” he says, voice heavy with sarcasm, and Wonwoo laughs.

“Yo, lovebirds!” Minghao’s sharp and irritated voice punctures their little bubble, and the two crane their necks to see the rest of the band grouped by the door, eyeing them with amused and exasperated expressions. “Does falling in love mean you go deaf, too?”

The pair shares a puzzled look at the question.

Jeonghan flicks his head toward the exit. “Time to go, children.”

Sheepishly, the new couple scrambles to their feet, unsuccessfully hiding the blooming blush on their cheeks as they bring up the rear, enduring the teasing remarks from the band as they file out of the room toward the stage. 

Through the short walk, Junhui doesn’t let go of Wonwoo’s hand in his, concealed thanks to the narrow hallway forcing them within close proximity. Wonwoo knows that for the next upcoming weeks, they won’t have as much time to spend together, but the thought of being apart doesn’t fill him with dread anymore. Because even though they are separated, he’ll believe in them. He’ll think about them. 

As they go on stage to perform their second song, he catches Junhui’s gaze at the appropriate times. The two of them flash secret smiles, the lyrics having now new meaning to them. While they may not share any lines or choreography points this promotional tour, they share something else much more important.

 

That night, when he presses Junhui against the counter and kisses him, he thinks maybe this comeback’s groupings might not be such a bad thing. 

The older’s hands find themselves sliding through his hair, as he sucks on the soft bottom lip. After having spent the whole day watching Junhui chew on it from across the room, now he finally gets the chance to taste it himself. 

So while they might not get the opportunity to be close during the day, it makes their nights together all the more addicting. 

 

Crazy in love, indeed. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooooooo
> 
> Wow, it's been forever. But hurray for summer vacation! Thank you for reading to the end. I know it's not up to par with my usual fics, but you can blame finals for frying off my few brain cells.
> 
> Hopefully it was ok... I'll try to get back into the writing mood. And with any luck, the next fic will be much better haha.
> 
> As always, thank you for your support! Much love! <3
> 
> P.S: i got all the translations from @fyeahwonhui, junhoontrash.tumblr.com, and what17says.tumblr.com  
> -the idea for the buttons on jun's shirt comes from this picture: https://twitter.com/chottokpp/status/867758633634775041


End file.
